


Dragon Age: Inquisition - The Last Laugh

by Kiwikink



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Bondage, Damsels in Distress, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:20:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26300056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiwikink/pseuds/Kiwikink
Summary: Inquisitor Asala Adaar and her loyal companions investigate a rogue mage, and find something a little more demonic...
Kudos: 2





	Dragon Age: Inquisition - The Last Laugh

It was a typically dreary day in Ferelden, with heavy rain falling from the thick, grey clouds that filled the sky. The rain pelted the lush, green trees that formed the forested areas of the land, causing the leaves to droop and sag under the weight of the deluge. But like the country itself, the trees remained standing tall and strong, though recent events had threatened to destroy both. Demons now roamed the lands, having escaped through tears in reality, a war between the arcane mages and militant templars raged, and dark forces threatened to capitalize on the chaos. It was enough to drive a normal person insane.

But luckily, Asala Adaar, leader of the newly reformed Inquisition, was not a normal person.

“At least it isn't snowing,” Asala thought to herself as she wiped the rain from her face, smiling to herself. As a qunari, she cut an impressive figure, standing at seven foot tall and possessing a body made of tightly packed muscles. Her skin was a muddy grey in colour, her white hair shaved back to a trim mohawk, and her face was handsome despite small scars marking her chin, cheeks and nose. Like most qunari, she had been born with horns, but her parents had removed them at an early age, leaving her with two blackened stumps on her forehead. She was dressed for action in a long, high-collared waistcoat made of dark leather that she wore over a mail shirt and grey tunic, and a pair of wicked looking daggers sat in sheathed on her back. All in all, was a very skilled warrior, but that was not what made her special.

Asala was crouched on the ledge of a hill, looking out upon Lachen Keep, an old stone fortress that had seen better days. She had made her way to the keep after losing contact with Lace Harding, her most trusted scout in the Inquisition. The plucky dwarven scout had been sent to investigate rumours of rogue mage who had set up shop in the dilapidated keep, and when she had failed to return Asala had gathered her most trusted allies to find out what had happened. So they had made the trek from their base at Skyhold Castle to the Ferelden Hinterlands, braving rain, rocky terrain and a preponderance of bears to arrive at their destination.

“Looks quiet,” Asala said with a smirk.

“It always looks quiet,” replied the woman next to Asala. Cassandra Penterghast set her square jaw in grim determination, as she was wont to do. A former Seeker from the Orliasian Empire, Cassandra served as both a trusted adviser and right-hand woman to Asala, and an expert with a sword and shield. She kept her dark hair cropped short and practical, and was rather pretty despite the long scar that marred her jawline. She was dressed for action in a black breastplate over a thick leather jerkin, the stiff collar rising up from the neck of breastplate to fan her neck. Though she kept a professional demeanour and was extremely pious, Cassandra passion for saving innocents and protecting the weak had earned Asala's friendship and respect. She was also a romantic at heart, loving trashy romantic stories, something Asala teased her about at every opportunity. “We should be careful. We have no way of knowing what abominations may lurk inside.”

“Darling, you worry to much,” laughed Vivienne de Fer, the party's enchanter. Like Cassandra, she hailed from Orlais, though she had been born Rivain. As such, she bore their dark complexion and high cheekbones proudly, keeping her black hair cropped closely. More suited to the royal court than the wilds, Vivienne stood out amongst Asala's group, dressed in a tight fitting pale grey dress with white strapping that showed off her amble bosom. But despite her overly refined nature, she was also a mistress of magic, as evidenced by the arcane staff she carried, and her arcane prowess had saved Asala on many occasion. “If the lovely Scout Harding has run afoul of something wicked, I am certain we have more than enough power to rescue her. After all, between my magic and our dear Inquisitor's abilities, what could possibly stand in our way?”

“Lots of baddies,” quipped the last member of the group, lounging behind them with her hands cupped behind her head. If Cassandra was the heart of the group, and Vivienne the will, then the perky young elf Sera was the funnybone. Born and raised on the streets of Denerim, the mischievous girl had educated herself in the art of thievery and archery, leaving her with a pragmatic but also almost childlike view of the world. Like most elves, she lithe of build and had long pointed ears, full lips, and her collar-length sandy-blond hair sported an uneven fringe from her tendency to only hack away at it when it got in her eyes. Sera was dressed in a simple leather armour over a red tunic and pants, and she work a dark cloth tied around her neck. She was anti-authoritarian, dishonest, stubborn and possibly completely mad … but Asala adored her. The fact she was also the best archer Asala had ever seen also helped. 

“Baddies or no, we need to find out what is going on down there,” Asala said, rubbing her chin thoughtfully. As she did so, green energy crackled in her left hand, surprising her. “Interesting...”

“So there is a tear in the Fade nearby,” Vivienne said, her eyes lighting up at the thought. Events during the civil war between the mages and the templars had left the fabric of reality damage, allowing portals to form that linked to the Fade, the dimension where demons and spirits resided. A twist of fate had left Asala marked, giving her the power to detect and close these tears, and it was that ability – along with her own heroism and determination to protect the people – that had allowed her to take the title of Inquisitor. “It seem it is a good thing you are here, Inquisitor. And here I was thinking this trip would be boring!”

“Just remember Lace is down there too,” Asala said, considering her options. The place looked deserted. But the promise of a Fade tear meant that demons could lurk inside. Caution would be the best cause of action, but at the same time, Asala enjoyed the thrill of danger. “Let's head down. Once we get there, we can see what is actually going on and deal with it accordingly. Sera, I want you to hang back.”

“Boo!” the young elf said, sticking her tongue out at Asala. 

“I need your eagle eyes watching for trouble,” Asala said. “If you see anything, do what you do best.”

“Cause havoc?” Cassandra offered, raising an eye brow. Sera poked her tongue at her too.

“Let's move out,” Asala said, and then led Cassandra and Vivienne down the hill towards Lechan Keep.

As the got closer, the seeming desolation of the keep remained, with no signs of life showing. No movement in the windows, no calls of alarm at their approach. It made Asala all the more suspicious, especially since the mark on Asala's hand fluxed more and more as they got closer. Closing her eyes to concentrate, and mentally suppressed its power. After all, it would not do to have a sudden burst of bright green energy give away her position before time. 

“I do not like this,” Cassandra said, setting her jaw and raising her shield. “No sign of the mages, no sign of Lace. And the keep is far too quiet.”

“Our dear seeker is correct,” Vivienne said, looking thoughtful. “Though I am no expert in the natural order, I would at least expect to be hearing birds, dogs and other animals nearby. The air is silent.”

Asala listened, and found the elegant mage was correct. All the ambient noises that had surrounded them since arriving in the Hinterlands had ceased, as if nothing natural wanted anything to do with the keep. Asala looked back up the hill to where Sera watched over them, and the elven archer waved back with a friendly but exaggerated gesture. 

“Well, the mystery won't solve itself,” Asala said, drawing one of her daggers and heading towards the main door to the keep. It was unbolted, and slightly ajar, but Asala could not hear any sounds coming from the otherside of the door. Shrugging, she opened it and walked inside into the antechamber, and was greeted by three doors. “Whelp, this is going to be fun. Cassandra, take the left, Vivienne the right. If you see anything, yell.”

“May Andraste watch over you,” Cassandra said, nodding as she opened her door. 

“Urgh, so much dust,” Vivienne said, wrinkling her up nose at the state of the castle. But she proceeded anyway, conjuring a magical light to lead the way.

“Well, Lace, if you are here, you better not get us into too much trouble,” Asala said, shrugging to herself. She then opened the door and head in.

* * *

Cassandra Penterghast moved down the hallway cautiously, her sword and shield at the ready. She moved without fear, for she was truly fearless, but that did not mean she was reckless, as Asala could often be. She knew her limits and capabilities, and always manipulated the battlefield to capitalize on this. But in situations like this, when she did not know what she was getting into, she had to rely on her faith both in her own abilities and in the Maker to see her through. If she found trouble, she would not wait for rescue; she was no damsel in distress, despite her fondness for such tales.

She reached a staircase at the end of the hallway and proceeded upstairs, listening for any sign of life. The keep was so quiet, so dead, it was unnerving. But Cassandra pressed on, hoping that the Maker was watching over Lace Harding. The dwarven scout was not only skilled but eminently likeable, always quick with a smile as she was with important intelligence. It would wound Cassandra if they had lost her, though if that was the case she pitied the person who hurt her. Cassandra's vengeance would be absolute.

The stairs ended at a doorway, which she carefully opened. Beyond it was a bedroom, clean and well stocked with clothing and a full bookcase. The large but simple bed against the far wall was freshly made, proving that someone was indeed living within the keep. Cassandra moved into the room, raising her shield as she went, her muscles tensed...

But her caution was all for naught. As she walked into the room, she stepped on an invisible glyph that been painted onto the bedroom floor. Before she could react, magically webbing sprang up around her, tightly wrapping her body and pinning her arms to her side. She went to call out, but her mouth was sealed with more webbing, stifling her cry. Within that instant, she was truly caught.

With Cassandra securely bound and gagged by the magical webbing, two figures emerged from their hiding places. Two young women, their head shaved and their eyes oddly vacant moved up to her, taking Cassandra's sword and shield from her trapped hands. They were both dressed in the robes favoured by mage apprentices, but neither spoke as they diligently searched the cocooned seeker and removed any equipment that might help her escape.

Cassandra fumed, grunting angrily from behind the webbing that covered her lips. The apprentices ignored her impotent rage, instead covering her face with a moist rag, and the sickly sweet scent of sleeping potion soon sent Cassandra into darkness.

* * *

Vivienne de Fer was not amused. Lachen Keep was in a real state, filled with cobwebs and assorted detritus left behind by the original owner. She had no idea why the keep was originally abandoned, though she suspected it probably had something to do with the blight that had passed over the area a decade ago, but that was no excuse to leave such a mess. But Vivienne still had a mission to complete, she reluctantly endured the mess to explore further.

Despite her haughty air and tendency to look down her nose at people, Vivienne cared deeply for the state of the world, and the people in it. It was that reason she had sort Inquisitor Adaar out to offer her services, despite that alliance often leading her into the most unsavoury of places. But in those journeys, she had developed a fondness for the people around her, including the diminutive Scout Harding, who was always coy and shy around the Riviani mage. Vivienne suspected the dwarven woman, who had been a farmhand before joining the Inquisition, was in awe of the mage's statuesque beauty, and in turn Vivienne had come to appreciate Lace's skill and dedication to the cause. It would truly upset her if something untoward had befallen Lace.

Vivienne entered an old library, gagging on the smell of the old tomes that filled the bookcases. The room had probably been suitable impressive when it had first been stocked, but damp and time had degraded it well passed the point of being saved. Vivienne wondered how much knowledge had been lost to its neglect, but that was a matter for another day. The desk across the room from her, which was covered in fresh scrolls and more importantly a lit candle, drew her attention.

“What do we have here,” Vivienne said with a grin, sauntering up to the desk. She laid her staff down and began examining the scrolls, curious to what secrets the held. They were notes for an arcane ritual, one that could summon a very particular type of demon from the fade and into the material world. And once there, how to merge with it...

“Fascinating reading, isn't it?” a soft, feminine voice said behind Vivienne.

Vivienne reacted quickly, dropping the scrolls and reaching for her staff. But before she could lay a hand on it, a claw made of violet arcane energy wrapped itself around her wrist and yanked her arm up into the air. A second claw grabbed her other hand and did the same, and she found herself pulled off her feet to be suspended above the stone floor. A final arcane claw clamped itself over Vivienne's mouth, preventing her from letting loose any spells that may have freed her.

“Hush, my friend,” the voice said, and soon the owner moved into the dim light of the room. Vivienne cried out behind her arcane muzzle as she stared into bright, violet eyes.

* * *

Asala Adaar explored the keep, frustrated by her failure to find any sign of Lace Harding, or anyone else for that matter. The keep felt wrong, and Asala's left hand kept throbbing, but it provided her with no evidence on wear the tear or her missing scout could be. Sighing with frustration, she opened another door, only to find yet another empty room. She hoped the others were having more success that she was. 

Moving deeper into the keep, Asala found the large double doors that lead to the main hall. A large wooden beam barred entry, and from the looks of it had been put in place recently. Curious, Asala sheathed her daggers and moved up to the door, taking hold of the beam. Her tight qunari muscles straining, Asala lifted the beam from the brackets that held it in place, then tossed it aside with a loud thud. Asala cringed at that, but she she was confident that anyone lying in wait would have been aware of her presence regardless of the noise. Drawing her daggers again, she opened the door and entered the main hall.

“Well, there you are,” Asala said as she was greeted by the sight of the Fade tear. 

Resembling an ever reforming cluster of green crystal shards floating in the centre of the room, the tear pulsated with magic as fissures erupted around it. Thankfully, it did not seem to be open, which hopefully meant no demons had escaped through it yet. All that Asala had to do was close it. Raising her left hand towards the tear, she began to focus her will through her mark, preparing to heal the arcane rift. But before she could, a muffled mew caught her attention.

“Lace?” Asala gasped, spotting the dwarven scout kneeling in the corner. Lace was clad in her metal breastplate that she wore over a short sleeved mail shirt, with her leather hood folded back. Her auburn hair was tied back in a practical bun, and her cute, freckled face seemed unharmed despite the thick knotted cloth tied between her lips. Her arms held behind her, though her ankles were unrestrained. “Don't worry, I'll get you out of here!”

As Asala knelt down to free her, Lace started crying behind her gag, nodding to warn the Inquisitor. Asala grimaced and spun to face whoever was behind her … and was surprised to find no one there. 

Lace then sprang from her sitting position, revealing not only that she was not bound but that she held a wet cloth in her hand. She landed on Asala's back, wrapping an arm the qunari's shoulders with one hand while she clamped the damp cloth over Asala's nose and mouth. The Inquisitor gasped, inhaling the fumes of the sleeping potion, and realised she had been betrayed. She stood upright, Lace clinging to her back, and clawed at the cloth covering her face. Asala was acutely aware than her vision was growing hazy, and the strength was being sapped from her body, but she struggled on, trying to shake Lace off of her.

But the dwarven scout held firm, refusing to release her former commander. Asala dropped to one knee, her arms feeling like jelly. Slowly, the last of her fight left her, and her eyes rolled back into her head as a drugged sleep took her.

* * *

Asala groaned as she slowly regained consciousness, her body arching. She vaguely remembered what happened, Lace's surprising betrayal, but her mind was struggling to make sense of it all. She tried to move, but she found that she was unable to, and soon clarity returned as she realized just how dire her situation was.

“Mmmph!” she cried.

Asala was still in the main hall, the Fade tear hovering in the centre of the room. Asala found herself to be sitting in a sturdy chair, her hands tied tightly behind her back and her ankles lashes to the front legs of the chair. A dirty rag had been jammed deep into Asala's mouth and bound in place with a strip of supple leather, ensuring she remained silent. Sitting next to her, tied and gagged identically, was Cassandra, her face red with rage, while shackled to the wall was Vivienne. She too was gagged, but with a leather muzzle that was tightly strapped in place. The trio's weapons and equipment had been removed, as had their boots and socks. They were well and truly caught.

“My, my,” a cold, feminine voice said, drawing Asala's attention. “What a sight you are. The mighty Inquisitor Asala Adaar, saviour of Thedas, rendered so helpless so easily. Now is that not delightful!”

Asala growled behind her gag as her captor came into view. She looked like a human woman, pale skinned and sporting long, stringy red hair and was dressed in a set of red, high-collared robes. But despite her physical normality, her eyes glowed with a violet light, revealing her to be possessed by a demon. She was followed dutifully by Lace Harding, ridiculously still gagged, and two young apprentices with shaved heads. All three had a dull look in their eyes, and it did not take Asala long to realize that they were under a mind control spell.

“Allow me to introduce myself,” the woman said with an evil grin. “My name is Diamanda, formerly a Mage of the Circle and soon to be your mistress.”

Asala and Cassandra looked at each other, then turned their attention back to the possessed mage, their eyes burning with defiance. Vivienne also refused to show fear, though she was more acutely aware of the danger Diamanda represented.

“Ah, I am sure you three lovely women are very strong willed,” Diamanda chortled. “You will resist my efforts. But so was your short little friend here, and she eventually broke. And with time, and the right incentive, you will all break too.”

She reached out towards the tear, calling energy from it into her own body. As she did so, a cloud of purple smoke began to rise about her, obscuring her from view. Lace and the two apprentices watched in stupefied awe, while Asala, Cassandra and Vivienne dreaded what was happening. The smoke began to fade, drifting away from Diamanda revealed her new form.

She still looked feminine, if no longer human. Her skin was now a vivid pink in colour, and a pair of long jagged horns grew out from her temples. Instead of her stringy red hair, her scalp was covered in a flickering white flame, and her eyes glowed even brighter than before. The desire demon grinned at her captives, licking her lips evilly.

“Tell me,” she cooed sensually, “are you ticklish?” 

She cast a spell, summoning up ethereal hands made of bright purple energy. The hands floated across the hall to where the prisoners awaited, and set to work on them. Two hands each assaulted Asala and Cassandra's bare, defenceless feet, their fingers dancing across their soles with ruthless efficiency. Vivienne's feet were likewise tickled, but she also had to endure more hands caressing her armpits as well. All three struggled to keep their composure as the magical fingers did their work, much to the demoness's endless amusement.

Asala strained against her restraints, doing her best to fight it. But as the fingers continued their steady rhythm strokes her naked soles, a small giggle escaped from behind the qunari's gag. Beside her, a muffled laugh came from Cassandra, while poor Vivienne let out a shrill shriek followed by uncontrolled laughing.

“Don't fight it, it will be easier if you don't resist,” Diamanda said, gleefully rubbing her hands together. “Let my hands break you down, and soon you will be mine!”

Asala fought tears as the tickling grew more and more intense as minutes passed, her giggles increasing in loudness and frequency. She bit deep into her gag, trying to remain in control, but arcane hands were wearing her down. Cassandra was doing no better, and Vivienne had given up on holding back as she chuckled uncontrollably behind her leather muzzle. 

“Excellent,” Diamanda exclaimed, sensing victory. But as she celebrated, the smell of smoke began to drift into the room. “What is burning?” she asked, looking towards her mind-controlled slaves.

“We do not know, mistress,” the two apprentices said in unison. Lace also answered, but her words were muffled by the gag still in her mouth. 

“Well, go investigate!” Diamanda snapped, shaking her horned head. She turned to her prisoners. “Stay put, we will soon have everything back under control.” With that, she beckoned her thralls follow as she went in search of the source of the smoke.

Once Diamanda left the room, the arcane hands dissipated, affording Asala and her friends a small messure of relief. But while they were restrained, they were still at Diamanda's mercy. Asala pulled against the ropes around her wrists, seeing if she could slip her hand free, but the bindings were expertly done. Grunting behind her gag, Asala huffed in disappointment, wondering how she was going to get free.

And it was then she heard singing.

“Sera was never an agreeable girl,” sang a familiar voice from above them, “her tongue tells tales of rebellion. But she was so fast, and quick with her bow, no one quite knew where she came from!”

With that, a rope was descended from the rafters, and a certain mischievous elf slid down it.

“'Ello, luv,” Sera said with a broad grin. 

Asala grunted behind her gag, simultaneously happy to see Sera and annoyed that she had taken so long to arrive.

“Sorry I took so long, stone keeps are hard to set fire to,” Sera giggled. “I must admit, you certainly look delicious, all bundled up like this. Woof!”

Cassandra interjected with a series of angry grunts and groans from behind her gag, the seeker unhappy with the elf's flippancy. 

“Don't worry, I'll have you out in a jiffy,” Sera said, humming her song as she produced a knife to cut away the ropes that bound Asala. Once her hands were free, the qunari Inquisitor happily pulled the gag from her mouth and planted a big kiss on Sera's lips.

“Sera, you are a wonder,” she grinned. “But next time, less jokes and more freeing. Now, help me free the others.”

Asala took the knife from Sera and began to cut Cassandra free, while Sera produced a set of lockpicks and went to work on the shackles that bound Vivienne. 

“What is going on here?” a voice suddenly demanded from behind them. All turned their heads to see that Diamanda and her thralls had returned from Sera's distraction. The demoness fumed, her face twisting into an evil looking scowl. “Slaves, take them!”

“I'll stop 'em,” Sera said, drawing her bow.

“Don't hurt them!” Asala said. “They under a mind control spell!”

“Gotcha,” Sera said, aiming carefully as Lace and the two apprentices marched forward. Once they were where she wanted them, Sera let loose her arrow, but not at them. Instead, she had aimed towards the wooden chandelier suspended from the roof of the great hall, her arrow sheering through the chain holding in place. The chandelier dropped, landing upon the three thralls, trapping them and knocking them silly.

“Nice shot!” Asala said with a grin as she finally cut Cassandra free.

“Yes, but all for naught,” Diamanda snarled, once again calling on the Fade rift to empower her. 

“I don't think so,” Asala said. She raised her left hand and placed all her will into her mark. Green energy burst from her palm, shooting into the centre of tear, causing it to shimmer and contract. The energy around the rift grew bright and more volatile as Asala willed the tear to close. Diamanda shrieked, doing her best to counteract the Inquisitor, but her own power was weakening with the tear itself. Then, with a burst of light, the tear was closed.

“No!” cried Diamanda, collapsing to the floor. She had reverted back to her human form, her connection to the Fade, and thus the desire demon, completely severed. But she was not helpless yet. Calling on her own magic, she began to cast a spell.

“No so fast, my darling,” Vivienne said, pulling the leather muzzle from her mouth, and unleashed a spell of her own. Diamanda found herself completely encased in a cocoon of thick ice, freezing her on the spot. “That will hold her for now. We can bind and gag her once she has thawed.”

“Vivienne, that was cold,” Asala said, eliciting a chuckle from Sera and a groan from Cassandra. Ignoring them, Asala went over to where Lace and the two apprentices were, still trapped by the chandelier. With the tear healed and Diamanda encased, the spell over them had broken. Asala pulled the gag from the dwarven woman's mouth and checked her carefully. “Are you alright, Lace?”

“My head aches,” Lace sighed. “I'm sorry, I tried to resist her, but she was just too powerful.”

“You have nothing to be ashamed of,” Cassandra said. “We all almost fell to her.”

“True,” Asala said. “We will need to be more careful in future, especially when dealing with rogue mages. But thankfully everyone is okay, and once again the Inquisition has won the day.”

“Not quiet,” Sera said, crossing her eyes and walking towards Asala in a stiff fashion with her hands stretched out in front of her. “Oh no, I see to be mind controlled. Who will stop me?”

Asala shook her head, then grabbed some rope and leaped upon Sera, tackling her to the ground.

“It was just a joke!” Sera protested as Asala began to restrain her, and broad grin on the qunari's lips.

Cassandra shook her head and looked to a bemused Vivienne. “The saviour of Thedas,” the seeker sighed as Asala began to tickle Sera mercilessly.

* * *

It did not take long for Asala to wrap things up at Lachen Keep. She had Lace go and fetch reinforcements, bringing back a pair of wagons to help them transport the prisoners. Diamanda and her two apprentices were gagged and bound and loaded upon one wagon to be transported to Skyhold. Asala was not sure how much the apprentices were involved in Diamanda's mad schemes, and would free them if they had been mind controlled the whole time, but until then she would take no chances. Vivienne volunteered to go with them, providing magical backup in case they tried to escape.

After after assigning a compliment of soldiers to occupy the keep and to gather up Diamanda's possessions, Asala climbed up onto the second wagon where Cassandra awaited. 

“Well, this was a bit of an adventure,” Asala said as she urged the horses on. “Could have been a lot worse.”

“The Maker smiled upon us today,” Cassandra said. “We need to be wary in future. Who knows what other dangers could come from those tears in the Fade. We are very lucky that you have been blessed with your mark, otherwise today might have turned out very differently.”

“My mark and Sera's rescue,” Asala said. “It's a dangerous world we live in. But with heart, faith and a little luck, we will always win in the end.”

“True,” Cassandra said. She glanced over her shoulder to the back of the wagon. “Speaking of Sera, are you going to untie her?”

Asala looked to the back of the wagon, where Sera furiously struggled. Her slender body was completely wrapped with thick cord, and a knotted cloth filled her mouth, muffling her angry protests. 

“Eventually,” Asala replied with a grin. “Eventually.”


End file.
